


as slow as you need

by kissofdusk



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Feelings, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Post-Break Up, Reggie is a Good Friend, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 10:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16890558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissofdusk/pseuds/kissofdusk
Summary: Reggie walks in on Veronica in a weak moment.





	as slow as you need

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short, stupid thing ripped out of me by the latest episode. Veggie got some chemistry, y'all.

Veronica gave him a copy of the key to Pop's a week after the speakeasy opened, but he hasn't had to use it until now. 

His dad's been off the walls lately. After asking about Gryphons and Gargoyles Reggie'd gotten a fist to the face, and sensing a repeat of that night, he decided it'd be best to shack-up somewhere until the storm blew over. And rather than having to call in a favor from a teammate and muster up a half-assed excuse, he figured the couches beneath Pop's would do just fine. 

He unlocks the door carefully, slipping inside and securing it with as little noise as possible. After Veronica bought the place, she convinced Pop to shut it down at night, saying that  _La Bonne Nuit_ would more than make up for the lost time. As such, the normally warm and inviting shoppe is dead silent and the unnaturalness sends a shiver down Reggie's spine. 

"Man up," he whispers, shifting his backpack higher onto his shoulder. He makes his way to the back, opening the door to the basement and taking the shadow-covered stairs slowly. Predictably, the place is shut down for the evening, but when he enters the main room he hears the unmistakable sound of someone crying. 

He's so taken aback that he doesn't consider any possible danger. Instead, he inches forward, squinting into the darkness in an effort to make out who it is squatting on his soon-to-be bed. The person shudders through another sob, obviously not noticing him, before picking their phone up from the couch, and when the light hits, Reggie realizes it's a hot girl just before he recognizes her as Veronica.

"Ronnie?" he asks, too surprised to stop Archie's pet-name from leaving his lips. 

Veronica jolts in surprise and has to turn off her phone in order to see. When she realizes who the intruder is, she gasps, "Reggie!", and sits up. She swipes a hand beneath her eyes quickly, though it doesn't mask the fact that she's been crying for some time. She isn't wearing any makeup, so she has no smearing to worry about, but she still looks absolutely wrecked. Ever since he's known her, Veronica has been the textbook definition of put-together. Now, seeing her in wrinkled pajamas camped out in a basement, Reggie starts to worry.

"What are you doing here?" she sniffs.

He frowns. "Why are you crying?"

She bristles. "I'm not--"

Reggie cuts her off with a sigh, dropping his bag to the floor. "Cut the shit. I'm not stupid." While she recovers, he takes long strides towards her, only stopping when they're close enough to touch. She stares up at him, doe eyes red-rimmed even in the dim lighting. "Why are you crying? Is it Andrews?"

Her resulting wince is answer enough. "Reggie, please, I can't talk about this right now. Just...act like you never saw anything."

His frown deepens, and he stares down at her for a long moment. The air is thick with tension, and while every part of him wants to pull this out of her, make her talk so that she can move on, he knows it won't work the way he wants it to. She loved Archie. It'll take time. 

Judging from the way she avoids eye contact, she's expecting him to do something stupid too. But he can't. She doesn't need a harsh reality; she needs anyone other than him, a friend who can be soft and forgiving. Reggie's never beat around the bush, so she's bracing herself for his first blow. 

It doesn't come.

He extends a hand. "Come on. I'm making you a drink."

She blinks. "What?"

"You know, one of your pussy drinks."

That earns an eye roll. " _Mocktails,_ Reggie." But she complies, resting her hand daintily on his. A surge of pride fills him when she lets him lead her to the bar. 

They don't speak much while he works. He flips the lights on around the bar so he doesn't spill anything, and it seems to remind her that she's not exactly dressed for company. She pulls up her camera, trying and failing to tame her knotted hair and splotchy complexion. Reggie steals glances now and then; there's something oddly intimate about seeing Veronica like this. His chest feels warm.

"There you go," he says, sliding the drink across the counter. "One fake-cocktail. Bon appétit."

"Thanks, Reg." She sips at the drink, immediately relaxing as the sugar enters her system.

Reggie leans down against the bar, putting his weight on his elbows. "We gonna talk about it now?"

She groans. "Not if I can help it."

He sighs inwardly. If only they had real alcohol...

"How am I supposed to make you feel better if you won't talk to me?"

"It's not your job to bear the brunt of my emotional burdens. It'll take time, but I'll get over it." Even as she says it, he can see she doesn't quite believe it. 

His eyes scan her face, carefully noting every blemish and freckle. The redness is fading, thank god, but it leaves behind dark circles that betray just how exhausted she must be. He'd never taken the time to think about it, as she'd always seemed more mature than the rest of his classmates, but Veronica is still only sixteen. This breakup, plus the war with her own father,  _plus_ having to manage a business has eaten away at her without anyone noticing. How had he not known?

"What if I want to?" She furrows her brow, not understanding, so he explains. "You don't have to handle all of this alone. I know I'm not Betty or Kevin--"  _or Archie "--_ but I want to help you. So let me."

As his words set in, a faint blush blooms on her cheeks. He's oddly pleased by it, by knowing that he can affect her so deeply. She swallows, drink forgotten, and tries to regain her cool. "No offense, but I'm not sure you know the nuances of running a business, Reg."

"That's true," he concedes. "My talents lie elsewhere."

"Yeah?" she asks, a smile finally appearing. "Where?"

He straightens to his full height, putting on his best "macho man" facade. "Well, as you know, I have dated many sexy women, and broken up with many sexy women." She rolls her eyes again. "But, unfortunately, I have also been dumped my fair share, and as such have mastered the art of moving on."

Amusement flashes over her features. "You, dumped? I never would have guessed."

He nods sagely. "I know." 

The responding laugh sounds like it's pulled from her against her will. "So do you have any tips?"

On the inside, he cheers in victory. "A few. First: get drunk with your best friend, but as we don't have immediate access to booze, we'll skip that one. Second: go to a club. Third: grind on the hottest person you can find, and voilà. You've officially moved on."

She can only gape. "...Are you serious? That's just masking the problem!"

"It works!" he insists. "I promise. Here--" Hurrying out from behind the bar, he heads to the stereo, flipping it on and searching until he finds a nice, slow jazz. She watches him skeptically, but when he offers his hand again, she moves to the dance floor with him. 

"Reggie, I'm not going to grind on you to smooth jazz."

He laughs, full and free, prompting her to step just a little closer. "Next time," he says with a wink, and though she sighs, he doesn't miss her newest blush. How many expressions has he been missing out on all this time? She should forgo makeup more often. 

His hands find her silk-clad waist, her own traveling up to his neck. Starting off slow, they sway back and forth, just getting used to the proximity. As the song changes, though, she comes a hair's-width nearer, and he takes that as permission to really move. Taking one hand in his, they go though all the formal moves he can remember before devolving into dips and spins and any number of things that will make her giggle. Countenance brightening, Veronica lets herself enjoy the moment. Reggie twirls the worry right off her shoulders, even attempts a lift that ends with her smacking against his chest, both of them grinning from ear to ear. Instead of pulling back into form, Veronica rests her head over his heart and closes her eyes. They slow to swaying again, but Reggie's pulse is faster than ever. 

Veronica's so soft. Her hair smells like lavender, and every time her breath ghosts across his neck, his own catches in his throat. He hasn't looked at her-- _really_ looked at her--since last year. She's been Archie's for so long that he's trained himself to treat her like an impossibility, but now that she's flush against him, every feature he'd studiously ignored comes into sharp focus. It's only worsened by the fact that they're friends now; he knows her, and her ambition and cunning only make him want her more. 

Even he's not stupid enough to make a move right now. He can't hurt her that way. If she needs him to be an outlet, then he'll be the best damn emotional outlet anyone's ever seen. But if, after enough time's gone by, she reciprocates? Well, dating a Vixen wouldn't be so bad. 

They dance into the wee hours of the morning. He finds out that she left her apartment and is currently living in the speakeasy, which explains a lot. She never asks why he showed up in the first place, and he doesn't tell her. She doesn't need to worry about him, too. 

When she's finally sated, he climbs up the stairs and back outside where he lets the air cool his flushed skin. His palms are clammy and his heart's still beating an odd rhythm against his ribs. "She's gonna be the death of me," he mumbles through a grin. 

That night, Reggie sleeps in the backseat of his car, dreaming of raven hair and wide eyes. 


End file.
